The Golden Maze
You hold the fox in your arms. It is dead. Its fur is matted with blood and mud, but it is still warm. You are standing in the kitchen of your childhood home. The linoleum is yellowed. The clock on the wall ticks. It sounds like a hammer hitting a nail. Your wife, Martha, stands by the door. She is holding a rifle. She does not look at you. She looks at the floor. Her hands are shaking. The...
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